Hey there, Monday,
I feel like giving your a big “I’m so sorry for you hug.” You get a bad rap. I hear a lot of name calling when you’re brought up. No one makes up fun memes about how much they’ve missed you. Instead you get this:
It’s not your fault that you ended up as the first day after the weekend. The glorious weekend. A lot of us rest on the weekend. We don’t have to answer to anyone and we get to sleep. I’m not one of those people.
I’m part of that group of people called “parents” (and at the moment single-ish parent). I still have to get up and do stuff and I answer to the three little minions who are always asking me for food. I mean, I can’t complain, really. They do sleep late compared to most kids.
I like you, Monday. See, I crave routine and lists and order. The weekend feels so out of control for me. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to relax and usually have my husband home to hang out with, but you offer me a clean slate, a fresh start, a chance to do it all again and this time do it better. And structure. Oh how I love the structure.
Each Monday, I whip out a fresh sheet of paper and make my lists. A clean sheet of paper for a clean week. I always feel like there’s organizational hope for me on Monday mornings. By the time Sunday night rolls around, I’ve lost all sense of normalcy, the kids are eating snacks straight out of the pantry, dinner is usually two hours late and we haven’t eaten a vegetable in two days. The laundry is piled high along with all the kids’ crafts and drawings.
Then you come along and make everything better.
So here’s to you, Monday! The most under appreciated day of the week, the one who keeps us all together. Thank you for getting me back on track and keeping me sane.